


And in the end, I'd like to think we may be friends.

by thebutterflycatcher



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, Sad Ending, blame the interviewer, damage control, harry realizes some things, its short but give it a chance, larry stylinson - Freeform, louis is really over it, no happily ever after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-28 23:12:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3873439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebutterflycatcher/pseuds/thebutterflycatcher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Louis and Harry believe Larry Stylinson isn't real, but the rest of the world thinks differently.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And in the end, I'd like to think we may be friends.

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know in the comments if I should continue this or keep it a one-shot??

Larry Stylinson is a lie. The entire thing, the relationship, the hiding, even the bloody friendship is a joke. We're not friends. Not anymore at least. Louis has made sure of that.

It all started on the TMH tour, during one of those stupid publicity interviews we had to do. I never understood the purpose of them, the fake interviewer with their scripted questions that management had pre-approved. It was a stupid man named Tom. He went off the bloody script, no ones heard of him since because he doesn't have a job anymore.

It was a live stream if you were wondering, the stupid interview. He went off the damn script and asked us straight up if we were in love.

It was a bad time to ask that question, honestly. I don't see how you could have picked a worse time. Bloody Louis was whining about the Larry articles again. We'd gotten into a fight about it in the back room, the boys trying to calm us down as security herded the studio employees away from the conversation. Not that it helped, Louis and I started screaming at each other about five minutes in.

He kept pushing the past month on tour, kept going on about the rumors. Every second reinforcing they were just rumors, like I didn't understand that. I was aware we weren't in a relationship, hell, I wasn't even sure I wanted to be in a relationship with him. Louis and his childlike personality and mischievous ways, his lack of filter when talking to people and his constant screaming, the bubbly exuberance practically exuding from his very presence in a room.

I wasn't like that. I was calm, gentle, I followed the rules. Louis called it boring, he encouraged the craziness. At first, I'd enjoyed it, breaking out of my shell, the constant touching and adoring looks. The idea of having a best friend who was so close to me. Like suddenly I mattered to someone so much it physically hurt to be away from them.

And it wasn't my fault we were changing, definitely not my fault. We were growing up, or maybe I was. I wasn't sure if Louis was actually growing up at all. Not that it was a bad thing, it just got to a point where I wanted him to focus. For one moment to act like an adult, to think about his decisions more rationally, to focus on our bloody jobs.

We are the number one boyband in the world, music, fans, tours, that is who we are now. We are the band. The band is us. This is our life, and he knew that going in.

But when the interviewer brought up Larry Stylinson live, Louis just cracked. It was like he was just done. Tired of the entire thing. Over it. And maybe I didn't give him enough credit, maybe this was his way of trying. Trying to keep our friendship out of the media, trying to keep us a band, but in the end I'm not sure it resulted in anything other than creating a barrier between us.  
Suddenly, it seemed impossible to reach over this ravine in between us. Somewhere along the way we'd become such opposites, alarmingly different in every aspect of our lives.

I wasn't even sure I recognized him. The minute he said the words, it was like I was looking at a stranger, I don't even think I knew him in that moment. He looked like the Louis I had fallen in love with, but it wasn't him.

He had finally snapped, maybe we should have expected it. 

"Enough with the fucking bullshit rumors, god damn. We're not together, we never have been. It'd be a stretch to call us friends at the moment. It's all because of the constant shit being tossed at us. Are you happy? This is what it is. I hate Harry Styles right now and I hate the rumors. Just stop them." Louis had yelled, his voice cracking on the last words as he yanked off his microphone and stormed out his vans clacking against the studio floor as the door slammed behind him. 

The interviewer stared at the space on the couch, mouth open, a confused expression stamped on his face. Liam was making dramatic gestures at management who were trying to shut the live stream off as Niall looked minutes away from crying as the awkward silence surrounded us. 

I felt frozen. The words not processing as I twisted the silver ring on my hand over and over again on my finger looking down at it. 

"I hate Harry Styles," Louis had just said that. He'd said it when he was angry and upset. Oh my god. He hated me. The words repeating over and over again like a mantra.

"Harry," Zayn spoke softly like he was afraid of my reaction. I turned to look at him, my eyes glossy and unfocused.

I stood up robotically, the couch squeaking, drawing Liam's attention away from Niall.

"Harry," he spoke questionably as he watched me, reaching his hand out to touch my arm. I jerked away from him moving across the stage.

"Mr. Styles, do not walk away," one of managements minions spoke.

"--crisis control, Harry," another yelled at me. The words drifting past me, I wasn't even sure I cared at the moment. Get out, out, fresh air, go away, not home, no, I live with Louis, not home. The words repeating as I moved towards the door.

"Don't do this, Mr. Styles, think of the band," Another voice called as I paused before the door.

"You did this," I hissed angrily before turning and slamming the door behind me as I rushed down the hallway towards the parking lot. I'm not sure how the other boys would react, whether they would come looking for us, or if they would sit down and attempt some amount of damage control for the band.

The damn band. It had taken so much from us. Was there a point in fixing it? Clearly Louis and I couldn't work together anymore, hell, could I even work in One Direction anymore? Everywhere, the constant rumors, the speculation.  
What about the other boys? The band? Would they try to fix it, would they even want to at this point? Was there even a band to fix?

It didn't even seem to matter at the moment. It was so irrelevant, even though it shouldn't have been. I think I was still in shock. It amazed me how the one person you loved the most was always the one who could hurt you the most. Louis was that person, and his words hurt. 

You think you expect something like that to happen, you expect them to break. It hurts to watch them keep falling apart, piece by piece until there is nothing left except bitter fragments and old burned out memories.

You think you are going to be like that forever. Young and naive, innocent in all respects of the entire definition of the word.

That you have money, and power, and fame right under your fingertips. Fans practically worshipping you, the ability to make a change, protect your family. But in the end how much of that really matters? How good can it be if in the end the price you pay is yourself.

Maybe not physically, but emotionally, the constant stress and pressure of society's scrutinizing eyes watching you like a beady hawk, just watching for one wrong move, before the jump and snatch you up.

I used to think it was ironic. Famous people had talent, or at least some of them did, and they got paid money to do said talent. How perfect their lives must be, how easy.

I never thought I would be in the same position. And even when surrounded by thousands of people, you feel completely and utterly alone in the world. That you may have helped so many people do so many things, overcome their worst fears, but then again your just you in the end.

Those people think they know you, you think you know you, and in a few words it's all gone. Like Louis may have been the last rope keeping me anchored to the ground. That maybe in the world the fame and money did come at a price, and it cost something I'm not sure I could ever find again: myself.

**Author's Note:**

> Should I add more chapters to this??


End file.
